Stealing Heaven
by tripke
Summary: "You stole my wallet." "It was a really good kiss." "But then you stole my wallet."


It's times like these that Castiel wishes he could ship his brother off to Scandinavia with a basket of oranges and a going away Hallmark card and never see him again.

He watches as Gabriel twirls around bodies, kissing and laughing with people he doesn't even know, dancing to the live music. It is some obscure indie rock band that no one even knows the name of, and he's dancing to the off-beat which was getting harder and harder to watch. Maybe it's because Castiel lives for tempos, being the pianist he is, but he can't see how it is even possible to dance the _wrong way. _

He looks away, shaking his head in disgust, and focuses his attention on the stage. They are in a bar, not small but not big, so it isn't hard to see the performers. Not that he particularly cares. This music isn't the kind he normally plays, or even listens to. Castiel finds he most enjoys modern instrumentals; he appreciates classical, but he often finds the emotions and stories more vivid in modern works. Gabriel had forced him to come to this concert, claiming Castiel owed him for that one time like two years ago he told their parents that Castiel was tutoring a kid in math instead of making out with a boy behind the library. He tried to explain that they weren't actually making out, they didn't even use tongue, but Gabriel wasn't listening.

Castiel is still thinking this over with a slight scowl on his face when he feels a cold, wet substance seep through his shirt and onto his chest, dripping down to his stomach. He groans, eyes flashing up to an extremely tall, skinny boy, with hair that nearly covers his eyes. His face is morphed into one of complete sympathy and regret and a little bit nervous, and it's enough to stop Castiel from cursing him out at the top of his lungs. Not that he would actually do that on a regular basis, but he isn't in the best of moods at the moment.

"Duuuuude," the boy starts. He really can't be more than sixteen, and he doesn't seem drunk, but he is definitely a little tipsy. "I am sooooo sorry. Really. Like, I will, just—hold on, let me get some napkins—" Castiel tries to tell him that no, it's fine, he'll get them himself, but the boy is already going to the bartender and asking for napkins. He watches as the bartender shrugs noncommittally and shakes his head, and Castiel starts walking the other way just as he sees that the boy is about to make his way back to him. He doesn't really want to have any more awkward conversations.

He feels a tap on his shoulder and, assuming it is that boy again, keeps trudging through the bodies, hoping he will think he didn't notice. But the tapping is more insistent the second time, accompanied by a rough "hey!" He turns, seeing a boy—man, really—who is only a little taller than him. He has light brown hair, so light it is almost dirty blond, and bronze freckles that are half-hidden by the dim lighting. His eyelashes seem to go one for miles, framing big eyes that Castiel can't quite see the color of in this light.

"Hey, man," he says, his mouth turning up into an amused smile. "Look, I'm sorry about earlier. That was my dumbass little brother who spilled his drink all over you." His smile grows wider, and Castiel knows he's supposed to say something now, but he can't bring himself to speak. The guy keeps talking though.

"You see, it's his seventeenth birthday and he's never had a drink in his life. I just thought it'd be nice, ya know?" He shifts his weight to one side, like he plans on having an actual conversation with Castiel. "Figured I'd let him have a drink or two, enough to make him forget about all his goddamn college applications. He's graduating a year early, see. Too fucking smart to stay in high school, so I don't blame 'im." Castiel didn't know why this man was telling him all of this, and all the while he still hasn't said anything back. But the guy sure is nice to look at, so he isn't really in a hurry to push him away. Hell, he might be the prettiest boy Castiel has ever seen, if you don't count an air-brushed Zac Efron in a magazine.

"Name's Dean," the guy says, extending his hand.

"Castiel," he says back, shaking his hand. It seems odd to be shaking one's hand in this particular setting, but it was the most polite thing anyone has done to him all night, so he isn't complaining. They are still shaking hands though, and Castiel is pretty sure that a proper handshake is only supposed to last a couple of seconds, but Dean is looking into his eyes and he seems to be thinking about something really hard, and his mouth is slightly open and now Castiel can't stop looking at his lips, and Dean is suddenly very, very close. Castiel does not usually do this. He does not kiss men he's only just met at a bar. But he is still soaking wet from that boy's beer and Dean is right here and he hasn't been kissed for a couple of months now.

So he leans in, and Dean's mouth is even softer than it looks. The kiss is tentative at first, but then Dean's hands are on his neck, his shoulders, his chest, his waist, his ass, caressing and squeezing and pulling at his clothes. His mouth is insistent, and Castiel mirrors his fervor, brings his hands to clutch at Dean's short hair. Castiel licks at the other man's lips and then their tongues are swirling around each other, fighting for dominance.

Dean pulls his body flush against his, and Castiel can feel every curve and angle, every ripple of muscle and the bones of his hips. He feels Dean's half hard erection, and he shifts so that it is pressed against his own. Dean moans in his mouth, and Castiel wonders if anyone is paying attention to them. Just as that thought crosses his mind, Dean pulls away. He looks ruined, his hair mussed and lips swollen. He smiles, and Castiel swears his white teeth actually _sparkled_, before turning and disappearing into the crowd. Castiel stands there, dumbstruck, wondering, _what in the fucking goddamn hell just happened? _

He thinks about going after him, but he figures he wouldn't have left if he wanted to keep kissing him. _Whatever, _Castiel thinks to himself._ It was a good kiss, but it's over now. _Maybe "good" was a bit of an understatement. He leans back on the bar, digging his hands in his back pockets.

And then his eyes widen as realization hits. _The bastard took my wallet. _

Before he knows it, he's making his way through the crowd where Dean had gone, dodging flailing arms and flying hair and he ends up at the back door. He looks back, scanning the place, but he doesn't see Dean. So he pushes the door open, feeling a rush of cool air. Dean is leaning against the brick wall, a cigarette in one hand, Castiel's wallet in the other, and his stupid smug grin. Castiel takes a deep breath.

"You stole my wallet," he says, intelligently. Dean smirks.

"I'm going to give it back, obviously."

"Obviously? Usually when someone steals something, they have no intention of giving it back."

"If I wasn't going to give it back, why would I be here?" He takes one drag from his cigarette and then drops it to the ground, stepping on it.

"You're an asshole." Dean smiles even wider. "I know." He holds the wallet out and Castiel goes to retrieve it, but as soon as he is about to Dean pulls it closer, keeps pulling it until Castiel is inches from him. He puts the wallet in Castiel's hand but grabs his wrist, leans forward and licks at his lips once.

"It was a really good kiss." Dean presses his lips at his jaw, then his throat.

"But then you stole my wallet." Dean hums in reply, his mouth moving down Castiel's neck, to his collarbone.

"I got kinda mad, but then," Castiel closes his eyes as Dean bites down softly at his collarbone. "Then, I realized that, well. The only thing in my wallet is my library card and a gift card to White Castle." Dean's mouth detaches from Castiel as he laughs, his whole body shaking with it. He looks up then, and Castiel sees now that his eyes are bright green and alive, beautiful, with golden flecks scattered in them like his freckles.

"Come to my house," Dean says. Castiel stares. He doesn't even know this man. He just succeeded in stealing his wallet. He means to tell him this much.

"What about your brother?" Is what comes out instead.

"He can get a taxi."

"All right, then."

After Dean hugged and said a quick goodbye to his brother and Castiel waved in the general direction of Gabriel, they headed off to Dean's car. Castiel isn't very educated in cars at all, but even he can tell that this one is really nice. They slid in, and Dean pulls him across the bench seat so that they are sitting thigh to thigh, and even takes his hand, holding it tightly. Castiel wonders if he does this with everyone that he takes home, and thinks that he must. Castiel has never held hands with a one night stand (not that he has too many experiences…no seriously, only like two or three), but he figures that he likes it.

The car stops and Dean leads Castiel out and into the apartment. Going up the elevator, Castiel's nerves are starting to creep in. It must show, because Dean's thumb begins rubbing soothing circles into the back of his hand.

The second Dean's front door closes they tackle each other, pushing and pulling and biting each other's lips. It's incredibly hot, and Castiel is almost embarrassed at how fast his dick gets hard. He tries to push Dean onto the couch, but he mumbles something about his brother coming in, so they have to go to the bedroom. He picks Castiel up, wrapping his legs around his torso, and carries him down the hall and through a door. Castiel rubs their cocks together, eliciting a moan out of both of them. Dean puts him down and pulls his own shirt over his head, and then reaches for Castiel's to do the same. As soon as it comes off, Dean latches his mouth onto a nipple, and Castiel throws his head back in pleasure. His hands find Dean's pants and he unbuttons and unzips them. He doesn't have the leverage to pull them down though, and it's making him frustrated.

"_Dean," _Castiel groans, hoping Dean will get the message. He stops swirling his tongue around Castiel's nipple long enough to pull his pants down, boxers included, and _damn. _He is one sexy motherfucker. Dean then lowers to his knees, pulling Castiel's jeans down. He steps out of them, and then Dean's mouth is at his boxer's hemline, and then he's pulling them down with his _teeth_, and fuck if that isn't the hottest thing ever. Dean then runs his hands up Castiel's legs and palms his ass, massaging it. He stands up, and they maneuver themselves over to a queen-sized bed. Not ideal, but big enough. Dean is hovering over Castiel, the only parts of them that's touching are their mouths. Castiel reaches his hand down and wraps his fingers around Dean's cock, squeezing it experimentally.

"Ca-_Cas—" _Huh. The nickname is new. Kind of nice, actually. Dean's resolve fades and he crashes down on Castiel, rubbing their bodies together, trying to get friction. Castiel reaches his hands around the body on top of him and rubs Dean's ass, slipping his fingers inside his crack.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean says, his breath hot on Castiel's ear. "Need to be in you. So fucking sexy." Castiel nods in agreement, and that's all Dean needs to reach over onto the bedside table and grab a condom and lube. He straddles Castiel's hips and squirts the lube on his fingers, the sound making Castiel shiver in anticipation. It's been way too fucking long.

Dean pulls Castiel's legs up so his knees are almost touching his chest, and rubs some lube on his fluttering hole, which makes him gasp in surprise. Dean looks up for permission, and Castiel nods again before a finger enters him. It's weird and uncomfortable at first, and he's inexplicable tight because he hasn't had sex in what feels like forever, but it gets better after a while, and by the second finger he's moaning and writhing on the bed.

When he finally gets used to four fingers, he practically swats Dean's hand away and tries to reach his cock. Dean chuckles softly and moves forward so that the head is barely touching Castiel's hole. He leans over Castiel, hands on each side of his chest, and then his cock is pushing in at a devastatingly slow pace. He makes the tiniest thrusts, each time going in a little deeper, until he's fully in and his hips meet Castiel's ass. They both still for a moment, panting heavily. Castiel feels like his ass is trying to pull Dean's cock even deeper, refusing to let him pull out. He slides his hands along Dean's back, pulling him closer. That's when Dean starts to move, slowly at first, and then he picks up speed until he's slamming into Castiel, their skin making smacking noises when they meet. Castiel is pushing his hips up to Dean's every time he pushes in.

"Fucking hell, Dean, harder—yes—oh God, yes," Castiel moans. He should be embarrassed at himself but right now he honestly just doesn't care.

"Yeah, babe, so good, you're so hot. You want it harder? So sexy, Cas, fuck," Dean says, and Castiel usually isn't one for dirty talk but Dean pulls it off so well, and it has him pulling at his own neglected cock. Dean covers his hand, and the leftover lube that's still on it makes it easier to jack him off, going to the same rhythm as Dean's thrusts.

Dean shifts his body suddenly, and his cock grazes Castiel's prostate, and he can swear he saw fucking stars and everything that is holy. He cries out and comes all over his chest and their hands. It only take a couple more thrusts before Dean is coming inside of the condom and then collapsing on top of Castiel. He pulls out and takes the condom off, throwing it in some direction off the bed.

Dean starts to get too heavy after a while, so Castiel nudges him off, but he comes back to wrap an arm over Castiel's body, a hand coming to rest on his chest, and their legs tangle together. It's probably the first time he's ever cuddled with a one night stand, and he again finds himself liking it. Dean kisses his way up Castiel's jaw and to his earlobe, nipping it.

"Cas."

"Yes, Dean?"

"You should stay all day tomorrow. And then the next day too, for good luck."

Castiel chuckles. "Good luck?"

"Mh-mm. Yeah. And then we should go on a date." So, not a one night stand, apparently. He could live with that.

"You know, Dean," Castiel says as Dean yawns next to him. "You're pretty sweet. For a thief."


End file.
